


Immortal Wounds

by LizzyChanz



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Bodyswap, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Psychological Trauma, Transformation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28566240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzyChanz/pseuds/LizzyChanz
Summary: Vincent Valentine wasn’t much of a people person, but tolerated the ones who called him their friend. Needless to say, he was none too pleased to find a new addition to the household when he came to visit.
Relationships: Vincent Valentine/Original Female Character(s)





	1. The Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely sure why I didn't start posting this here after making my account-- it's already on ff.net, after all. Maybe I'm just embarrassed about posting something with an OC in it...? Yeah... probably.

Vincent Valentine wasn’t much of a people person, but tolerated the ones who called him their friend. Needless to say, he was none too pleased to find a new addition to the household when he came to visit. He supposed she wasn’t too bad. She only gave a short nod when Tifa introduced the two. Her name was Lya Farrow. According to Tifa, she was found unconscious in the park Marlene usually played in. Vincent looked back down at Lya.

  
“Unconscious in the park,” he repeated slowly, mulling the idea over in his head. Surely that wasn’t the basis for taking in a complete stranger. Lya blankly stared up at him.

  
“I was only passing through,” she said quietly. “I had been travelling for a while, so I was pretty tired.”

  
“Yeah, well,” Tifa picked back up, “Marlene found her and woke her up just as some thugs came. I think they were probably kidnappers. They were on them before I could do anything. As it turns out, Lya's a pretty adept magic user. She saved Marlene, and when Barret found out, he insisted she stay with us.” Vincent continued to stare down at Lya as Tifa finished explaining. He supposed she was a pretty girl, with auburn hair and honey colored eyes.

  
“I might leave soon,” she said as she got up. She gave Vincent another short nod and left the room. Tifa smirked after her.

  
“She always says that, but I don’t think she means it.” She turned back and winked at Vincent. “Seems like she’s got a weak spot for children. Just like someone else I know!” she exclaimed, looking back at Cloud who was sitting on the couch. He awkwardly scratched the back of his head, but didn’t say anything. “She’s been here two months now,” said Tifa thoughtfully, but Vincent had already left for the room he usually took when he was there. She looked around, sighed, and plopped down on the couch next to Cloud.

  
“He hasn’t changed,” said Cloud, and Tifa chuckled.

  
Vincent opened the door to the guest room he usually used. Besides being cleaned, nothing in it had been touched. Pretty sentimental of them, he thought, but secretly he was glad of it. He sat down on the bed and stared out the window. The sun was high in the sky: it was lunch time. He leaned over and closed the blinds, darkening the room, and let his mind wander.

  
Was Lya a good person? What did she do all day? Was she just using the others' kindness to continue staying here? He blinked up at the ceiling. Why did he care? It wasn’t any of his business. Cloud and the others could house who they wanted. He sighed and closed his eyes, and heard Chaos laughing in his head.

  
 _They’ve replaced you_ , taunted the demon. Vincent scowled, trying his best to ignore it. He tried to clear his mind and began to meditate. 

  
Late that evening, Vincent’s meditation was interrupted by a strange scent. He had never smelled anything like it before, so it intrigued him. He supposed he had meditated long enough to keep his head partially clear for a bit, so he decided to investigate. The scent was coming from the kitchen. He hesitated before cautiously sticking his head through the door. Lya was there, cooking dinner. She felt his eyes on her and glanced at him for just a moment before returning her concentration to the contents of the pot she was stirring.

  
“Will you be eating with us?” She asked as he was about to leave. He turned back. She was blankly staring at him again. He wasn’t sure what to make of her.

  
“…Perhaps.” He left with that, wondering if he could assess her more at the dinner table, or if he should just leave her alone.

  
Vincent came down the stairs after dinner had already started. He heard Barret arguing with Yuffie, who was here just like him, for Marlene’s upcoming birthday.

  
“I did _not!!”_ screamed Yuffie, pointing her spoon at Barret.

  
“You did too, you fucking bitch!!” Barret bellowed back, jabbing a middle finger from his prosthetic in her direction. Lya spoke up.

  
“If you don’t sit down and be quiet, I will not cook for you again,” she said in a low, stern voice. Barret and Yuffie both stopped and looked at her, and then back at each other. It seemed that they liked her cooking too much to continue their argument, so they huffed out a begrudging truce and continued eating. Vincent silently watched from the doorway as the dinner table resumed a sensible level of conversation. It was then that Marlene looked up from her plate and grinned, her entire face lighting up.

  
“Mister Vincent!” she exclaimed happily. Evidently, no one had mentioned his return, and she had been a little worried he wouldn’t show up before her birthday. Everyone else looked up from the table as well, startled at his presence during mealtime.

  
“Finally decide you weren’t too good for us?” jeered Barret before Tifa elbowed him.

  
“I came down because for a moment I thought it was quiet. Perhaps I was mistaken,” Vincent calmly replied, making Barret grind his teeth. Before he could start yelling, Lya cut in.

  
“If my cooking is desirable, it should _stay_ quiet.” She said this looking directly at Barret, and he put his head down in defeat, begrudgingly taking in another spoonful of stew. Vincent stared curiously at her before taking a seat in the corner of the room.

  
“Too good for the table, huh?” murmured Barret. Marlene elbowed him this time.

  
Dinner continued without incident, civil conversation taking the place of Barret and Yuffie’s bickering.

  
“So Lya,” Yuffie piped up. “Where’re you from?”

  
“Just a small village in the grasslands,” she replied quietly, not looking up from her bowl.

  
“Hm? Was there a town there…?” Tifa wondered aloud, but no one disputed it. Vincent watched the conversation drifting around Lya, keeping his ears open and her in his peripheral. Marlene was talking about her day at school, Tifa encouraging her. Lya got up so quietly that no one seemed to notice except for Vincent. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her head into the kitchen. The conversation had moved on to Tifa's bar, and Cloud’s delivery service. Evidently, both businesses were doing well enough to help Barret pay for Marlene’s schooling, and Tifa said how thankful she was to have finished the extension to the building just before Lya came to them. 

  
Lya came back into the dining room with a bowl in hand, still just as quiet as she’d left. She wordlessly handed the bowl to Vincent and took back her place at the table, letting the conversation wash over her as if she’d never left, smiling slightly as Marlene pitched an idea to Cloud about transporting kittens.

  
Vincent stared down at the bowl he’d received. It was full of an unfamiliar stew, dark red in color, bits of meet and vegetables peering out at him from the red, gravy-like broth. Thanks to Hojo's experiments, he didn’t need to eat to survive, but he still could. He slowly shifted the bowl to his other hand and grabbed the spoon, lifting it to his mouth.

  
The taste was familiar , yet different than anything he’d ever had before. It wasn’t too spicy, despite the red color. After wrestling for some time with why it seemed familiar, he finally realized it reminded him of some dishes from Wutai, though it was different enough for him to have not immediately made that connection.

  
He realized she was watching him. He normally wouldn’t bother with formalities, especially with this group, but for some reason that gaze demanded a polite response. He gave a short nod, and made himself take another bite, which didn’t take much effort as it tasted pretty good. No one else seemed to notice any of this, which suited him just fine. He didn’t want anyone making a big deal out of it.

  
He didn’t learn anything else about her for the remainder of dinner. She mostly kept quiet, responding in short sentences, any opinions she might have never allowed to show. In that respect, she wasn’t much different from Vincent. The only thing he did learn was from that gaze. She valued politeness and respect, though she didn’t voice it. She didn’t seem like a bad person, so he dismissed any suspicions he might have had, and quietly finished his stew while listening to the others talk.

  
Barret was the first to finish, loudly expressing his satisfaction, and patting his stomach. Marlene smiled up at him. It was good to know she wasn’t picking up his bad habits. He excused himself, saying he needed to call Cid about the oil field. Apparently, he came to visit for Marlene s birthday even though Cid and the others were incredibly busy. Her party was in two days, and everyone was getting ready for it. Even Cid would allegedly visit the day of, effectively halting progress on his new business.

  
“You haven't met Cid yet,” Tifa told Lya. “He's one of our friends, but recently his business has really taken off, so he hasn’t had the time to visit.”

  
“I see,” was all she said. She stared blankly down at her stew and continued eating.

  
 _They’ve replaced you!_ taunted Chaos again, laughing with glee. _They got someone just like you who won’t leave them—she’s prettier, too._ Vincent ignored this, giving no indication that the demon was bothering him. He quietly stood up , setting his empty bowl down in his chair, and trailed back up the stairs to his room to meditate. He clutched at the protomateria in his chest, lamenting the fact that it couldn’t shut the monster up. He sat down on the bed and began putting his mental walls back up to push Chaos's whispers as far back into his mind as was possible.

  
The next day held more of the same, with Vincent learning absolutely nothing about Lya. Denzel came back from whatever boarding school he’d insisted on going to, and Shelke came back from her advanced studies to prepare for Marlene’s birthday tomorrow. Vincent stood in the doorway to watch everyone going over the plan—evidently, this was to be a picnic. They'd have to travel a bit out of Edge, but there was a safe enough field out there, and with so many experienced fighters, it wouldn’t be a problem. Knowing Marlene, she may even try to sneak one of the cuter creatures home with her. Shelke would probably make sure she didn’t. Yuffie excitedly danced around at the mention of party poppers, and Marlene grinned from ear to ear at the mention of strawberry cake.

  
While they were debating whether to do presents before or after cake, Vincent spotted Lya out of the corner of his eye. She’d come into the living room from the kitchen, and was watching from that doorway. Her expression was unreadable but he'd given that up the day before. Tifa spotted Lya as well, and smiled.

  
“How’s it coming?” she asked. 

  
“I just put it in the oven,” Lya replied. Apparently, she was the one making the cake. Barret nodded in approval.

  
“It better be perfect,” he warned, though Lya seemed to take little notice of the not quite threat.

  
The rest of the day was busy with the planning, and cards were coming in, either RSVPing or expressing regrets they could not attend. Vincent kept silent and out of the way as did, he noticed, Lya. There was something off about her expression, and it only increased as the day went on. By the end of the day, she looked terrible. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin held a deathly pallor. 

  
“…I don’t feel well,” she informed Tifa before disappearing up the stairs to her room. A deep frown creased Tifa's face.

  
“I hope it’s not like last time,” she muttered, looking worried as Cloud entered the room.

  
“What?” he asked, hearing her remark and seeing the look on her face. 

  
“Lya doesn’t feel good,” she said, turning to him. “And she looks the same as she did last month. That time, she didn’t come out of her room at all the next day.” Clouds brow bent in concern. 

  
“Think she’ll be okay? Marlene’d hate it if she missed the party.” Tifa's expression said she didn’t know.

  
Vincent silently watched all this unfold, unconsciously tucking the information away—a habit he’d formed as a Turk, which he didn’t seem to be able to break. It did come in handy at times, though. Like remembering birthdays and how to speak to whom (although, he never really bothered utilizing the latter information). His eyes flicked towards the staircase. So she’d been sick before. Part of him tensed at the thought that it might be Geostigma. This didn’t last long, as he reminded himself that the Geostigma was chronic, plus they’d already cured everyone with it. He decided it must be a stomach bug, and that her immune system might be weaker than everyone else's. Nothing to worry about. He put it out of his mind for the remainder of the evening, and didn’t give it a second thought until the next day.

  
Vincent came out of his room the next morning to find Tifa with Marlene, knocking on a door down the hall.  
“Lya, are you sure you can’t come?” Tifa asked. Marlene was frowning.

  
“My sincerest apologies,” came the muffled reply. She sounded hoarse and weak. “But I do not think I can.” Marlene looked crestfallen, but then brightened back up. Vincent could almost see the lightbulb above her head.

  
“We'll save you some cake,” she said, smiling. “Cake'll make you feel better, if you just wanna come late.”

  
“Thank you,” Lya said after a brief silence. “I’ll try.” With that possibility, Marlene skipped down the stairs and disappeared into the living room. Tifa sighed.

  
“If you need anything, my cellphone's always on,” she offered before heading after Marlene. Vincent stared at the door before going down himself.

  
Everyone was already heading out the door. Vincent waited a while for the doorway to clear up, but before he could follow everyone outside, Yuffie grabbed and yanked his arm.

  
“Hold up,” she said in a low voice. “I need your help.” He stared down at her, waiting. “I need you to get Lya for me,” she whispered as the last of the party headed out the door.

  
“Lya is sick,” he reminded her. “Just leave her be.” She smirked.

  
“She may just be trying to get out of going. But I rigged the lock—she’s gotta come no matter what. For Marlene.”

  
“Then why don’t you get her?” he asked, and turned to leave. She grabbed his arm again.

  
“She won’t listen to me—that’s why I need you to do it. Please, please, please?” He closed his eyes as Chaos mimicked her pleases, mocking her. Perhaps it would stop if he did her this favor. Or it wouldn’t, out of spite. Either way, a little extra time behind the others wouldn’t matter that much—he could easily catch up.

  
“Fine,” he said, wrenching his arm from her grasp. “But I can’t guarantee she’ll come.” Yuffie grinned at him before disappearing out the door. Just in case, he checked his pockets. Everything was still there. Good. He slowly headed back up the stairs, pushing Chaos's taunts to the back of his mind where it wasn’t quite as loud. He got to the door he’d seen Tifa at and hesitated. He knocked.

  
“Who is it?” came the hoarse reply. Vincent cleared his throat.

  
“Yuffie told me to come get you,” he said without announcing himself.

  
“I am sorry,” she replied. “I can't go.”

  
Vincent hesitated again before trying the handle, Chaos's taunting growing louder and louder.

  
 _Please, please, please_ , it sang. _Please, please, please take hold of her throat and strangle her until there’s no breath left._

  
The handle gave way, as Yuffie had said it would. There was a movement as he pushed open the door, and the sound of cloth being viciously shoved back as Lya wrenched the covers off of her, when suddenly Vincent’s breath left him, and his whole world was jarred and distorted. He was on the bed, staring wide-eyed back at himself. The Vincent at the door stared back, eyes wide open in shock.


	2. Switched

“What—what was that?! What's going on?!” Vincent jumped off the bed and staggered, a wave of nausea rolling over in his stomach, head spinning. Why was he staring at himself? Was he asleep? Was he dreaming? Was Chaos screwing with him? So many questions ran through his mind when he realized his head was quiet. No laughing, taunting demon to tell him what it thought of the situation. He glanced in the mirror before turning back to the him standing in the doorway and did a double take. He… was Lya.

  
His head jerked back to the him in the doorway, assuming Lya was in there. She had been quietly watching. “What happened,” he repeated slowly. She was silent for a moment.

  
“Is it not obvious?” She asked. He scowled at her, so she continued. “It appears that we’ve switched bodies, though I’m sure you’ve gathered that already.” She shifted her weight, an uncomfortable look on her face. “The question is: how did it happen and how do we fix it?” she said after finding a comfortable standing position. Vincent’s eyes narrowed. She was too calm. He felt she knew more about this than she was letting on. His thoughts trailed off when she made a disconcerted expression. She noticed his quizzical stare, and forced a curt smile.

  
“Your friend thinks this is all quite hilarious,” she stated, pointing to her head. He frowned. So Chaos was still…

  
“That thing is _not_ my friend,” he growled. He sat down on the bed as he struggled to think. He was so used to Chaos interfering with his thoughts that he couldn’t get used to the quiet most others were graced with. It was… peaceful, and yet the drastic change left him unable to gather his thoughts. The nausea and dizziness were steadily receding now, though a dull ache in his head remained. She really had been sick. He shook his head and glared back up at Lya. “You seem to be taking this very well.”

  
“Not especially,” she responded. “I just think it’s not at all conducive to panic about things that have already come to pass.” Vincent tilted his head. He only now realized she had an odd way of speaking now that he was hearing it out of his own mouth. But he couldn’t deny her logic was sound. He, himself, wasn’t panicking too terribly after all the things he’d gone through so many years ago. 

  
He frowned again. She was too calm about it, though. No denying she’d exhibited a calm and collected manner in the short time he’d met her, but most people—women especially—would show more of a reaction than this. He shook his head again. Perhaps he was thinking too much. Without Chaos, his thoughts were free to wander and collect into jumbled webs, more than likely forcing conjectures that weren’t really there. He looked back up at her. She was still grimacing, meaning Chaos was still taunting her. Hopefully the demon would be too busy laughing at them to think about trying anything. 

  
“At any rate, we should probably tell the others,” he finally remarked as he made an attempt towards the door. “Perhaps they’ll know how to fix it.” For a brief moment, he thought he saw a glimmer of panic behind her eyes, but almost immediately the expressionless mask was back in place.

  
“If that is your wish,” she said softly. He frowned.

  
“Is there a reason why we shouldn’t tell them?” he asked suspiciously. She shrugged.

  
“Not particularly,” was her answer. He staggered over to her, not used to his new center of gravity, and pulled his phone out from his pocket. She didn’t resist, silently watching him pull up Tifa's number from his list of contacts. They’d be at the field by now. He hit call and put the phone up to his ear. She picked up after the second ring.

  
“Tifa,” he said. “Something’s happened.” There was a brief silence on the other end.

  
“…Lya? Isn’t this Vincent’s number? Is he there with you?”

  
“I AM Vincent,” he said, and proceeded to tell her what happened. She was silent for a very long time.

  
“…You’re joking.” Silence. “You’re not joking. You’re really Vincent…?”

  
“Yes. Would you tell the others? We need everyone thinking about how to fix this.”

  
“All… Alright, but we’re not stopping Marlene's party. You’re in Lya’s body right now: do you feel sick?”

  
“I did, but it’s going away, now.”

  
“Why don’t you and Lya come out to the field, and I’ll give everyone a heads up before you get here?”

  
“I’d… I'd really rather not. Please tell the others. We'll be waiting here.” He hung up before she could respond and sighed. “She'll tell the others, but they won’t stop the party.”

  
“I should think not—they have been planning it since before I arrived,” she said. “And it’s not as if we're in any real danger. I am sure they will be thinking about a solution before they return.” She headed for the stairs. “In the meantime, I will make something to soothe my—your stomach.” Even as she said this, his stomach twisted a bit, though the brunt of the nausea was gone. He followed her downstairs. He gingerly sat down on the couch while she disappeared into the kitchen. A while later, she returned with a small bowl and handed it to him. He stared into the steam. It was some kind of broth. He took a spoonful and almost immediately felt relief as the liquid moved through his system.

  
“What is this?” he asked, taking another spoonful.

  
“It’s bone broth, mixed with a bit of elixir,” she replied. “My grandmother's recipe.” He finished slowly, not wanting to irritate his stomach, and by the time he was finished, the only thing left was a faint ache in his head that was rapidly disappearing.

  
“Why didn’t you make this earlier?” he asked. If it worked that well, why not use it?

  
“It was worse before you came in,” she admitted, “and I was in no condition to cook.” She left it at that and took a seat in a chair across from him. They quietly observed each other as they waited for the party to end.

  
It wasn’t an awkward silence; he could tell she was trying to read him the same way he was trying to read her. An occasional grimace broke through her mask long enough for him to at least read that much. He couldn’t imagine Chaos taunting her any less than him, so the fact that she could go so long with only an occasional grimace was quite impressive. He surmised that by the end of the day, even her discomfort with the demon would be hidden by that expressionless mask that was so much like his own. He started to wonder why a girl so young needed such a mask in the first place. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, though it was entirely possible that she had good genes and was actually older than that, but it couldn’t be by much.

  
While most young people did have masks they put on around others, this was the sort if mask that took years of trauma and discipline to forge. He found himself wondering what could have possibly happened to her, before reminding himself that sticking his nose into someone else's business was what caused his own mask to start forming. And normally he’d be content to leave it at that, but something was niggling at the back of his mind, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. Perhaps it was the freedom that came without Chaos that was doing it. He tried to shove it down and ignore it like he did with Chaos. It helped a bit.

  
Lya seemed to have given up observing Vincent, and was currently staring at her left arm, turning and flexing it a few times. She looked back at him and held it up.

  
“Prosthetic?” she asked. He nodded. “I’ve never seen one like this.”

  
“Nor will you again, as I’m given to understand that the creator died before it was patented,” he replied.

  
“Pity. It really is very well made.” She didn’t ask him how it happened, which he was grateful for. Nor did she ask any more about it, so he assumed whatever curiosity she had had been satisfied. She did continue to move it around a bit, testing the flexibility, perhaps admiring the handiwork—something Vincent had never done since waking up in Hojo's lab. Once she was satisfied, she put her hand back down in her lap, and stared intensely at nothing. Vincent hadn’t looked in mirrors much since Hojo’s lab, but he was beginning to understand why people seemed so nervous around him.

  
Like Vincent, Lya had an unapproachable air around her, and the intense, blank expression only intensified it. It wasn’t too threatening on a small, thin girl with not much height to her, but on Vincent’s six foot frame, it bordered on disturbing. He looked away, and was thankful his friends stuck around him despite that. 

  
The party lasted for several hours, and Vincent found himself wondering what could possibly be so interesting for them to stay out so long. He tried thinking back to his own childhood birthdays, but because his father was more interested in his research, he never really had what others would call a “proper" birthday party. He contented himself in knowing Marlene's golden years would be better than his. He glanced out the window, watching as the sun began its decent. 

  
Lya had resumed watching him, though he couldn’t tell if it was from curiosity or if Chaos was telling her lies about him or something else. She wasn’t grimacing anymore, as he'd expected. If she was going to stare at him, there was no reason not to stare at her, so he did. Their eyes caught, and neither of them looked away. He felt something foreign rise in his chest. He shoved it back down and tried to read past her mask. Nothing. He imagined she was probably doing the same with him, though he couldn’t be sure.

  
It was dark by the time the others came back. It was a full house—all of the original gang was here with the exception of Aeris. Cid, Nanaki, Barret, Yuffie, Tifa, Cloud, even Cait Sith. Reeve probably sent him because he was busy with the WRO. Marlene followed everyone in, looking exhausted and content. Vincent assumed everyone else went back to doing whatever they were doing before. He knew at least Denzel and Shelke had plans to go back to their respective boarding schools.

  
Everyone stared from Vincent to Lya, warily entering the living room. They silently stared back, waiting for a possible solution. Barret finally broke the ice.

  
“Y'all sure you switched bodies?” he asked. “Neither of you seem any different.” Yuffie nodded enthusiastically. 

  
“Yeah. You two are so similar, it’s hard to tell.” Cloud held up his hand to silence them, and looked between Vincent and Lya before settling his eyes on Vincent and speaking up.

  
“You’re really Vincent?” he asked.

  
“Yes.”

  
“How… how did this happen?”

  
“I don’t know," he said. Nanaki took a seat on the floor.

  
“It must be some form of magic,” he said, “but I must confess I’ve never heard of any spell that can do this.”

  
“Neither have I,” supplied Tifa. “And we’ve encountered some pretty strange spells during our travels.”

  
“Yeah, turnin' into a frog is one thing,” piped Cid, “but I ain’t never seen anythin' like this.” Everyone else agreed that no one knew how to fix it.

  
“If it's a spell, shouldn’t you start looking for materia?” asked Marlene sleepily. Barret patted her on the head.

  
“You’re right,” said Cloud. “Do either of you have any strange materia you might have picked up before coming here?” Vincent and Lya glanced at each other before shaking their heads.

  
“You’re welcome to search mine,” he said, “but I’ve had the same materia since Meteor.”

  
“And you can search mine, though I do not have very many,” supplied Lya. Cait Sith ventured closer and examined the two.

  
“It mightn't be materia,” he said, causing Lya's eyebrows to raise slightly. She must not have been expecting the stuffed cat to talk. “The magic Reeve uses to bring me to life isn't from materia.” Cloud looked up, surprised.

  
“It isn't?”

  
“I can’t rightly explain it,” he admitted. Lya finally spoke up.

  
“Since materia is formed from the lifestream, and the lifestream is all around us, it only makes sense that a few gifted people would be able to draw power from it directly, though with varied results and limitations.” Cait Sith nodded, beaming.

  
“Quite so,” he said.

  
“But these people are few and far between,” she continued. “I myself am capable of casting thunder without the use of materia, but that is all I can do, and in this body, I’m not even certain I can do that.” Everyone stared at her.

  
“…You sure?” asked Cid. She nodded. He turned on Vincent. “You got any weird powers we don’t know about?”

  
“…No,” said Vincent. “You already know what I’m capable of, and body swapping isn’t part of it.” Cloud sighed.

  
“Well, it appears we’ve hit a dead end,” he said. “I suggest we call it a night and sleep on it. Perhaps a fresh perspective is what we need.” They all agreed, and everyone headed upstairs except for Cid, who needed to get back to his oil field right away. Cait Sith and Nanaki shared the last guest room, Yuffie sharing with Tifa. Vincent headed to his room to think. He was going to meditate, but without Chaos, that seemed pointless. He should probably tell Lya about that. He caught her just before she closed her door.

  
“I have found that meditating helps,” he said, tapping his head. She gazed blankly down at him.

  
“My gratitude,” she said, and closed the door. When he turned back around, Yuffie was grinning suggestively at him.

  
“What was that about?” she asked, blocking his path. Normally, he’d be able to push past her, but she was taller than him now, by roughly two inches.

  
“Nothing,” he said. She leaned forward, face uncomfortably close.

  
“Nothing doesn’t stand in front of other people's doorways,” she said slyly. Vincent narrowed his eyes. Somehow he felt that this was her fault, though he knew she didn’t actually do anything. 

  
“It's nothing,” he said again, and shoved past her to his room. 

  
“You like her?” she called after him, causing him to turn around in his doorway.

  
“What?”

  
“Do. you. like. her?” she asked again, emphasizing each word. That damn grin was back.

  
He stared hard at her before closing the door. What in the world could have prompted that? She knew he wasn’t interested in anyone, especially not after Lucrecia. And he'd only just met Lya. He didn’t know anything about her, and despite how everyone treated her, neither did they. It was childish, but then… Yuffie was basically a child, wasn’t she? They all were compared to him, except for Nanaki, but even he matured slowly. 

  
He looked out the window as he sat down on the edge of his bed. The moon was already high in the sky. In his own body, he didn’t actually need to sleep, inducing it through meditation. So it was with some nostalgia that he found it difficult to keep his eyes open. He felt… human… for the first time in thirty years, and he continued to ponder that even as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've read a few ffvii bodyswap fics, but they're usually written as silly comic pieces with lots of out of character moments. At the very least, the two I read with Vincent in them were, anyway.
> 
> I'm definitely not pretending there won't be OOC moments here, given my limited understanding of certain characters, but I do hope it comes across as a little more serious.


	3. Curiosity

Vincent woke the next morning feeling sore and groggy. He stiffly sat up, confused. He stared down at the bed, realizing it seemed much bigger than it should. A quick glance at his reflection reminded him of yesterday's events. He groaned. A part of him had hoped he’d been dreaming. Another part had hoped that everything would be normal the next day. Still another, smaller part of him guiltily relished in the quiet of his mind—around this time, Chaos would be incoherently screaming at him, for unknown reasons. Probably to piss him off. He slid off the bed, wincing a bit at how stiff and sore his joints were. What did normal people do after waking up, again? Right. Stretch. He stretched, and that helped a bit. He assumed the stiffness would go away after an hour or two, if he remembered properly.

  
He groggily shuffled towards the door right as someone knocked on it. He opened it, and was greeted by Yuffie shoving him backwards into his room. He glared at her, fully awake now.

  
“Okay, Vinny, I’ve got a mission for you,” she said excitedly. Vincent pushed past her towards the door, not even bothering to acknowledge her. “Don'cha at least wanna hear it?” When he still didn’t answer, she called, “Aren'cha at least gonna brush your hair?” He stopped at that and turned.

  
“Why?”

  
“Because I would at least like to come back to a body without a tangled nest on my head,” said Lya as she came out of her room. She stared down at him. “And I do not think anyone will take you seriously if you look like you were struck by lightening.” He sighed.

  
“I don’t… own a brush,” he said. She gestured to him, and he followed her back into her room, looking around. For someone who’d been living there for two consecutive months, the room was surprisingly bare. Not even a picture on the dresser or nightstand. She gestured to a chair in front of an equally bare vanity. He sat without a word while she pulled out a brush and began to tame the wild hair he’d woken up with. She was halfway through when she spoke again.

  
“You will have to shower tonight,” she said, voice still expressionless without even a hint of worry. He looked up at her through the mirror.

  
“You don’t even know me,” he said. “Do you really trust a strange man with your body?” Her eyes met his in the mirror. Nothing got through that mask. No concern or surprise… Just like his.

  
“I haven't a choice, have I?” she replied. “We do not know for how long our predicament will last.” She resumed brushing his hair. “And I, for one, do not wish to return to a grimy, odorous body. Do you?” He didn’t answer her as he watched her hand guide the brush through his hair.

  
“…Fine,” he said after a while. She finished brushing his hair and walked over to the dresser, opening a drawer, and pulled out some clothes. She wordlessly handed them to him, and ushered him back out into the hall, closing the door behind her. He looked at the clothes in his arms, and then headed back to his room. Yuffie was still in there, waiting for him with a grin on her face.

  
“Well?” she asked. He tilted his head. “What's her room like? Didja see anything?” Vincent dropped the clothes onto the bed.

  
“It’s empty,” he said. She frowned.

  
“Aw, you weren’t looking! That’s the mission I had for you—I wanna know what she’s hiding.”

  
“What makes you think she’s hiding something?”

  
“She never talks about herself, or her family, or her hometown, or anything!” she whined.

  
“Neither do I,” he pointed out. 

  
“Yeah, but everyone already knows about you, and it’s not like you dodge the questions.”

  
“She could just value her privacy.”

  
“Aren'cha even curious about what kinda materia she uses?” He shook his head. “Aw, you’re no fun.” He pointed to the door, and she smirked. “Fine. Don’t think this is the end, though." And with that, she left, not even bothering to close the door. He stared after her. It did intrigue him. The bareness of the room, without even a hint of personal touch. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought it was vacant. And he still felt the way she spoke seemed off, and it would go in and out of sounding strange. She could just be very well bred, and time with less educated people was affecting her speech. On the other hand, he'd never heard any of the upper class speak like that. He put it out of his mind, deciding instead to head downstairs.

  
Lya was already in the living room, talking to Tifa, who was nodding with a concentrated look on her face. She pulled back and looked Lya up and down for a moment, eyes calculating.

  
“No problem,” she said. “Just leave it to me; I’ll have Marlene help out at the bar while I’m gone.”

  
“At the bar?” asked Lya. “Isn’t she a little young?” Tifa waved her hand dismissively.

  
“It’s fine; she’s been doing it since she was four.” Before Lya could respond to that, Tifa gave a short wave and headed out the door. Vincent watched her from the bottom of the stairs. As if she knew he was there, Lya turned around to face him.

  
“I noticed you didn’t have any luggage with you when you arrived,” she said, “so I asked Tifa to purchase some clothes. I hope that’s not overstepping?” He shook his head and strode over to the couch, taking a seat and letting his mind wander. Lya stared at him for a moment before taking a seat across from him, in the same chair she’d been in yesterday. She stared at him. He met her eyes.

  
“You appear to be taking this all in stride,” she said. “Are you sure this hasn’t happened to you before?”

  
“I could ask you the same question,” he answered. A humorless smile played on her lips.

  
“Fair enough.” She left it at that and closed her eyes. Probably meditating, then. She opened them again and looked at him when a low growl filled the air. Another growl, accompanied by a pain in his stomach made Vincent realize it was coming from him. He frowned down at it, a faint memory stirring in his mind. Actual hunger.

  
“I forgot, you didn’t have dinner last night,” said Lya as she got up from her chair. “It didn’t occur to me since, for some reason, I’m not hungry.” She didn’t ask why she wasn’t hungry, but there was an invitation in those words. 

  
“You won’t feel hungry,” he said. “But you can still eat.” He didn’t say any more than that and, after regarding him for a moment, she disappeared into the kitchen. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted into the living room a few minutes later. Lya ushered him into the dining room, where two plates of food were waiting, and two glasses of orange juice.

  
“Your friends don’t usually eat breakfast,” she said, “so I don’t know what anyone likes to eat, if you’ll forgive my assumptions.” He sat down in front of one of the plates, Lya taking the other seat.

  
“I don’t usually eat breakfast, either,” he admitted, though he didn’t volunteer that he didn’t need to eat at all. She’d either find out for herself, or just assume he couldn’t feel hunger, and keep regular eating hours. It didn’t matter either way.

  
“Well, you will need breakfast until we find a way to switch back—that body does not do well when it skips meals.” That was inconvenient, but seeing as it wasn’t his body, he figured he should at least follow her directions to keep it maintained. They ate in silence, the ache in Vincent's stomach subsiding as the food was introduced into his system.

  
Being normal wasn’t quite how he remembered. Though, looking back, he may have romanticized his life before Shinra a bit. He once thought he’d like to be normal again, but now it all just seemed like too much work. Work that he hadn’t needed to do for more than thirty years. The only thing he even remotely enjoyed was having a quiet mind. He glanced at Lya, who was silently eating, eyes focused on her plate. She gave no indication that Chaos was even there, something that had taken him years of self induced nightmares to achieve. Interesting.

  
“You handle it well,” he ventured. At her gaze, he tapped his head. “That… _thing_.” She put her fork down.

  
“Yes. I don’t know where you… acquired… it, but it is a bit of a handful,” she said. Her eyes were calculating, but she didn’t ask about it. “Very… playful.” He wouldn’t have put it that way, but he supposed that to Chaos, the taunting and the growling and the screaming could be considered… play. In some sick, twisted way. “It likes you better,” she commented offhandedly. “Evidently, I’m ‘Not fun.’” Their eyes met again as he raised an eyebrow. How in the world did it assess what fun was? Lya didn’t seem any different from him, so why would he be more fun?

  
“Interesting,” was all he said before getting up and heading for the kitchen, taking his plate with him. He put it in the sink and headed back upstairs to his room. His thoughts were far too jumbled, so he decided to meditate.

  
It was late evening when a knock at his door brought him out of his trance. He felt a bit refreshed after that session: more like himself. He barely opened the door before it swung open, causing him to jump back to avoid being hit.

  
“Vinny!!” Yuffie exclaimed happily. “Wanna help me search Lya's room?”

  
“No.”

  
“Please? I can stand guard!”

  
“No,” he said again, a little more firmly. She pouted, her bottom lip comically protruding in some parody of feeling hurt.

  
“Meanie,” she said. “Why won’t you help me?”

  
“Just do it yourself,” he said, pushing past her. “I want no part of your schemes.” He went down to dinner without bothering to look back.

  
The next few days were very similar. Cait Sith and Nanaki left to return to their personal lives, expressing regrets that they couldn’t help. Cait Sith promised that either he or Reeve would be back if he found anything, Nanaki promising the same. Yuffie kept pestering him about finding out more about Lya. Lya would tame his hair in the mornings—he tried to get out of that one, but she wouldn’t have it. Other than that, his interactions with her were minimal. In spite of that, a growing curiosity was nagging at the back of his mind, despite his best efforts to dowse it. Sticking his nose into other people’s business was what turned him into a monster. He could _not_ be curious. But he was. And it ate away at him every day, accentuated by Yuffie’s badgering.

  
On the fourth day of the switch, when Yuffie confronted him before dinner, he finally caved in. Ecstatic, Yuffie danced around a bit before Vincent shot her a warning look.

  
“I’ll stand guard—you go in and find out what you can,” she said. He sighed and, after making sure that Lya was busy cooking, the two crept to her room and tried the handle. It was unlocked, the lock probably still suffering from what Yuffie did to it. Or Lya trusted that no one would invade her privacy. Apprehension settled in the pit of Vincent’s stomach as he went in, Yuffie staring after him from the doorway. Very quietly, he crept over to the vanity and checked it’s drawers. Her brush and a few other inconsequential items were there. Then he checked the dresser. Clothes in the top three drawers, a small stash of basic materia in the bottom. All mastered. Interesting. Then he checked the single drawer on the nightstand. There was a single photo in there. He pulled it out to look at.

  
The photo was laminated, containing Lya and an older man he didn’t recognize. It was old, he noticed, and something was terribly off. Under the laminate, the paper of the photo was yellowed, fraying at the edges, and the photo itself was all in sepia. The two in the picture were wearing strange clothing. Yuffie left her post to peer over his shoulder, and scrunched up her nose.

  
“Didn’t think she liked this kinda stuff,” she said.

  
“What stuff?”

  
“Y'know, gimmick photos, where you dress up and pretend to be characters from a movie or something.” He stared hard at it. Was that what this was?

  
“ _What are you doing in here?_ ” came a sharp voice he recognized as his own. They whirled around to find Lya standing in the doorway, glaring at them. Her eyes widened when she saw what Vincent was holding. Faster than he could blink, she was by them, snatching the photo out of his hands.

  
“I’m… I’m sorry—” he began, but she interrupted.

  
“ _Get out_ ,” she snarled, and Vincent saw a dangerous glimmer of yellow in her eyes.

  
Yuffie began to protest, but Vincent grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room. Lya slammed the door behind them. Yuffie wrenched her arm from his grip.

  
“What was that for?” she asked, irritated. “We were just about to get some answers!”

  
“We were about to be attacked,” he corrected. “Let her cool down a bit before you start bothering her.” Yuffie huffed out a begrudging agreement just as Tifa arrived upstairs.

  
“What happened?” she asked. “I heard a loud noise from here all the way in the bar.” Cloud was also making his way upstairs to investigate. Vincent headed to his room.

  
“Ask Yuffie,” he said, and before she could protest, he closed the door, guilt setting his insides aflame. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... In case it wasn't obvious, I REALLY don't like Yuffie, and I'm not sure why so many people like to pair her and Vincent together.
> 
> I'm doing my best not to make her completely unlikable, but I'm sure I'm failing. Haha.


	4. Lya's Secret

After the bedroom incident, everyone thought it was best to let Lya cool off for a while, and when she didn’t show up for breakfast the next morning, it was expected. Vincent felt particularly guilty about prying-- he himself knew better than anyone that privacy should be respected. He decided then that he needed to apologize properly. But when she didn't appear for lunch or dinner, everyone started to worry that the crossed line was bigger than they initially thought.

"If Yuffie hadn't been so nosy, this wouldn't have happened," Barret said in an accusational tone. Yuffie put her hands up in protest.

"Don't look at me! Vincent's the one who was snooping!!" she said, false innocence masking her guilt. Tifa interjected.

"Only because you wouldn't quit bothering him about it!"

Vincent silently watched the others as they argued with each other. It was true that Yuffie kept nagging him about it, but the truth was he was curious despite his best efforts to ignore it. Lya had intrigued him so much that his normal indifferent attitude faltered. Very briefly, mind you, but faltered all the same. This was his fault. Not Yuffie's. Of course, he didn't volunteer this information out loud. If she didn't show up for breakfast, he would make it a point to visit.

The next morning, after he attempted to tame his hair with his fingers, Vincent peered out of his bedroom. Lya's door was still closed, but that may have been out of precaution. He made his way to the top of the stairs and looked down. He saw Barret crossing into the living room. Quietly, Vincent crept downstairs and checked all the rooms, but Lya was nowhere to be found. He went back upstairs and stopped outside her room. He took a deep breath and knocked. Silence. He ventured another knock and was met with more silence. Hesitating, he tried the handle. The lock was still broken. He poked his head in, and what he saw sent chills down his spine.

The bed covers and pillows had been ripped to shreds, the dresser was broken, and there were deep claw marks decorating the walls and the back side of the door. Vincent sharply sucked in a breath. His stunt must have triggered one of his body's transformations. Judging from the size of the claw marks, it was probably the Galion beast.

He shut the door again and massaged his temples, contemplating what to do. It was highly unlikely that Lya would run away without her proper body, especially now that she knew what _his_ body did. His head jerked up again as Cloud exited his room. For a moment, Cloud silently surveyed the scene before him. Before he could comment, Vincent quickly asked,

"Does this place have a basement?" Thinking it best not to ask questions, Cloud nodded slowly. 

"The stairs are just before the door to the bar." In a flash, Vincent disappeared down the stairs. Cloud frowned. This was new. First Vincent's prying, and now he appeared to be anxious. Perhaps being in Lya's body was affecting him? Cloud shook his head and decided to wait and see. He'd ask questions if nothing changed.

Once downstairs, Vincent turned to the direction of the bar and scanned the area for the door to the basement. Once spotted, he tried the handle. It easily gave way, and he opened the door to look down the stairs. The stairwell was dark, but he spotted a faint light emanating off to the right. He ventured down the stairs, closing the door behind him. Once downstairs, he peered around the wall to the right. Large stacks of boxes littered the area. Behind those on the far left was a water heater, and a furnace on the right. The faint light was coming from an old lamp hanging down from the ceiling. 

Vincent took a few steps forward and finally spotted Lya. She was sitting on the floor near the water heater, nearly hidden by a stack of boxes. Her knees were pulled close to her chest, and her head was resting on them, facing away from him. He ventured a few steps closer, and she finally spoke up.

"I really should have left two months ago," she said softly. Her voice was weak and broken, as if she had been crying. As Vincent approached, he noticed she was tightly gripping the photo he'd found in the nightstand. "None of this would have happened had I left right away." Vincent frowned.

"This has happened before," he said. It was a statement, not a question. Lya raised her head and turned to face him. Her eyes were red and swollen. She gave him a bitter smile. 

"It has happened so many times that there's no use in counting." She said this with such bitterness that Vincent briefly wondered if he was talking to the same girl. 

"So you can fix it," he pressed, choosing to ignore the emotion exhibited to him. 

"I know how to fix it," she said, "but I myself cannot." He regarded her with a blank stare. She stared down at the picture she was clutching. 

"Did you know? The first time it happened, it took more than a year to put right."

"What?"

"The first time, it took me six months to figure out what happened, and another six months to sort out." He frowned at her, not quite following. "My body changed hands with six different people," she added. Vincent's eyes widened. 

"So... you switch bodies once a month?"

"Not quite. It happens once every thirty-two days. But it's not me-- it's my body. I was trapped in someone else's body the entire time."

"And you didn't think this was important enough to tell us?" he asked sternly. She let out a curt laugh. 

"I wasn't expecting to stay here this long."

"Why did you stay?"

"I said it when we met, right? That I was passing through. I'd been traveling for so long that by the time the others found me, I was out of money and had nowhere to stay." He gave her an incredulous look. "As long as my body is alone on the day in question, nothing will happen," she explained. "That's why I usually stay at an inn around the time it occurs, but... I had just gone through a dry patch, and had spent my last Gil on food the week before. I came here with the purpose of earning money and leaving promptly, but... They were so nice. I've been alone for so long." Vincent's expression softened. He understood that feeling all too well. 

"Although it seems I've become complacent, as this time I forgot to lock my door," she added. Vincent closed his eyes and breathed out a small groan. 

"Actually, you _did_ lock the door." Lya raised her head to look at Vincent, eyes fixed intently on him. 

"When Yuffie asked me to get you, she told me she rigged the lock, saying you had to come no matter what, or something along those lines." Lya pressed her lips together into a thin line, eyes growing dark. After a moment, she sighed.

"Well, it's done now. If you can hold out for another three weeks, we'll change back, and I'll get out of your hair. You won't have to worry about it again." Before Vincent could respond, she sat up straight and gave him a long, hard look. "You could have warned me, though. About this body." Her stoic mask was up again, though her puffy eyes betrayed the facade. 

"Like you warned us about yours?" he asked. She winced. He sat down next to her. "I didn't think you had that much pent up aggression," he said softly. His curiosity was nagging at him again. He'd gotten a glimpse of Lya's true face, and he suddenly craved more, though he wasn't sure why. His eyes landed on the photo in her hands. She followed his gaze. 

"You're much more curious than I gave you credit for," she commented.

"You told us you were raised in a small town in the grasslands," he started. "The others and I have been to that area many times, but there's no such place." Lya sighed and leaned back against the wall. 

"There wouldn't be. That place is long since gone." Vincent peered at her face.

"You're young," he said. "There would have been a record of such a place. The first time I went, I don't think you'd been born yet." Lya barked out another bitter laugh. Vincent stared at her, and then back at the photo, the gears turning in his head. To save him the trouble, she spoke up.

"I was born long before the grasslands were grasslands. In a small town called Vaire." She turned to face him. "In 1753."

Vincent's mouth slowly parted in a sort of stupor as he mulled over this new information. After several moments of stunned silence, mouth dry, he finally asked,

"How?"

Her eyes flicked to something behind him before sighing. “Perhaps the rest of your crew would like to hear it as well,” she said, her voice raised. He startled, and looked behind him, but there was no one there. “Come on out,” she pressed. Tifa sheepishly emerged from behind a stack of boxes, guiltily staring down at the floor.

“I-I didn't mean to eavesdrop, especially after the other day, but when you didn't turn up, I got worried and started looking for you.” Lya’s expression softened. 

“Only you?” she asked knowingly, eyes sparkling with grim humour. Tifa winced, and Yuffie and Marlene also came out of hiding.

“How’d you even know we were here?” asked Yuffie. Lya shot her a warning look, and she gulped and stared at her toes. Vincent raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t even heard them come in.

“How long have you been there?” he asked. Tifa bit her lip.

“Long enough,” said Lya shortly, but there was little bite in her remark. She seemed to have come to terms with her secret coming out. She sighed. “Well, I can continue talking here, or we can all go upstairs and I can properly explain myself to everyone.” Tifa gave her another apologetic look, and Lya got up, dusting herself off and strode over to the stairs, tucking her picture into her pocket, the other three behind her. Vincent stared after them for a moment before getting up himself and following them up the stairs.

Once everyone was together in one room, Lya hesitantly brought everyone up to speed about her body's peculiar function. Barret gaped at her, and Cloud frowned.

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier? This could have been prevented,” he said. Vincent watched Lya grasp for the words she'd already had to say to him in the basement.

“I meant to be out of here long before this happened—I just… haven’t had any place like this in such a long time that…” she didn’t continue. Tifa spoke up.

“Did you think we wouldn’t let you stay?” she asked. Lya stared silently at the floor. “Everyone's welcome here,” she continued. “And if you’d told us about it, we wouldn’t have bothered you that day.” Lya looked up, surprised.

“You’re not—you’re not disgusted or afraid…?”

“’Course not,” said Barret. “We put up with Vincent, don’t we?”

“We put up with you,” mumbled Yuffie low enough that Barret didn’t hear her. Marlene elbowed her. Cloud spoke up again.

“More importantly, is there a way to…” he groped for words, “cure you? How did this happen?”

“Ooh, ooh, you’ll never guess, but she’s REALLY old,” started Yuffie. Tifa kicked her shin. “Ow!!”

“That’s not important,” Tifa growled at her through gritted teeth. Cloud and Barret stared at them, confused.

“Actually, that _is_ kind of relevant,” admitted Lya, “as the knowledge that did this to me was lost almost two hundred years ago, so if there was a cure, there’s no way to know now.” Everyone gaped at her. 

“Say WHAT?!” asked Barret, eyes bulging. Cloud’s mouth hung open slightly.

“Although I can’t be sure of the date,” she continued, “as I was exiled from my hometown for being a witch. So I’m not sure if my uncle died before or during the earthquake that swallowed the town.”

“You’re uncle?” asked Vincent as Cloud and Barret were still coping with her alleged age. “Why would he have that information?” She glanced at him, and he saw a pained look pass behind her eyes.

“He was a scientist. He’s the one that did this to me.” Vincent felt as if the floor had dropped out from beneath him.

“Your own uncle?” asked Marlene, mortified.

“Why would your own family do something so…” Tifa started, eyes dazed. Cloud snapped out of his stupor first.  
“Wait, if your uncle was the cause of this, why were you exiled and not him?” he asked. Lya slowly sat down on the couch, a weary expression on her face.

“He… he was well respected in the town, and he didn’t like me very much. He discredited me so viciously that anything I said against him was lost on closed ears. Even my…” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I was allowed to stay long enough to sort out the mess I’d gotten into, and then was immediately thrown out.” Vincent was starting to understand why she hadn’t told them—she would have enormous trust issues with a history like that. 

“So, what, we just have to wait it out?” asked Barret, finally snapping out of it.

“Pretty much,” she said. “And I’ll need to be alone with Vincent when the time comes. Otherwise, my body will randomly switch with someone else, and it will take much longer to sort out.” The air around them tensed a bit at the thought of that before Barret broke the tension.

“Huh. Gotta say, you don’t talk like you’re a hundred years old.” Lya raised her eyebrows.

“Thou hast studied the mannern which we spake?” she asked. At his startled expression, she chuckled and added, “I picked up on the new speech as time changed it. Though I must say, the ways one learns when young are difficult habits to break. And I’m not a hundred,” she corrected. Cloud raised an eyebrow.

“How old _are_ you?” he asked as Vincent did the math in his head.

“Two hundred and sixty-five,” he said, voice low in awe. “How… how old were you when…?” She clasped her hands and looked down at them.

“Twenty-two.”

Vincent had never thought of himself as very old, but being around much younger people made him feel too mature. What must Lya be feeling, even around him? He suddenly felt very childish and self conscious, even though he told himself it was silly to think that way. There was another silence as the information sunk into the group, everyone eying Lya warily, unsure how they were supposed to treat her now that they knew she was older than them. Marlene was the first to decide on it.

“Does this mean you’ll make it for my birthday next year?” Lya blinked in surprise, and looked around at everyone’s faces, then back at Marlene. She let out a real laugh, and a genuine smile that reached all the way to her eyes graced her face.

“I guess it does.” Everyone relaxed again. Yuffie scrunched up her nose.

“It’s really creepy seeing Vinny laugh,” she said. Vincent glared at her, but everyone else just ignored her.

“So how long you gotta wait?” asked Barret.

“Three more weeks,” she replied, stoic mask slipping back into place. Vincent saw a relief there, just behind her eyes, and for some reason, his heart swelled at it. He blinked in surprise. Why did he feel that strongly about it? Perhaps he felt a kinship because they were both experimented on…? He decided it must be that. 

“So how were you surviving before this?” asked Cloud. “There really aren’t any reports of incidents like this, so you must have had some sort of system?”

“I traveled around from town to town and locked myself in an inn when the time came,” she said simply. “The reason there are no reports is because the last incident was almost a hundred and fifty years ago.” Cloud blinked.

“Wait,” he said. “You traveled around?” A nod. “All over the world?” Another nod. “You’re the Cursed Traveler,” he whispered, eyes wide in realization.

“The what?” asked Lya. Tifa sent her an apologetic smile.

“The Cursed Traveler is an old folk tale that grandmothers and midwives tell children to get them to behave,” she explained. “The story goes that if you aren’t a good, obedient child, the Cursed Traveler will find you and steal you from your body, leaving a quiet, obedient husk in your place.” Vincent vaguely remembered a story like that from his childhood.

“In Wutai, it was the Tale of the Body Snatcher. Same premise, though,” supplied Yuffie. Lya raised her eyebrows a bit.

“How interesting,” she said.

“You didn’t know?” She shook her head.

“Does it bother you?” asked Marlene, climbing onto the couch next to her.

“Not really,” she said. “Just a little surprised to discover I ended up as a boogeyman of sorts. But it’s a cautionary tale, so it’s fine.” Vincent wondered if he would also become a boogeyman legend in a few hundred years. He shivered at the thought. He didn’t really care what others thought of him, but being a horrific legend wasn’t very pleasant to think about. He thought he saw something flash behind her eyes, but he couldn’t read it, and it was gone too quickly.

“You can stay here if you want,” said Tifa. “You won’t have to travel, and you’d always have a safe place to lock yourself away.” Lya looked back down at her hands.

“I’d like that very much,” she said quietly. “But I don’t want to burden you with my problem.”

“If it was a burden, we wouldn’t offer,” said Barret. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay here with us.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

“I… I had an… accident… in my room, so at the very least, I should stay until I’ve paid for the damages,” she said slowly. “After that, we'll see.”

“An accident?” asked Cloud. Vincent cleared his throat.

“Galion Beast,” he said, and everyone made a small “o” with their mouths, sending Lya sympathetic looks. She sent Vincent a curious glance before returning her attention to the rest of the group.

“So it’s settled, then,” said Barret. “You’ll stay here.” Lya pursed her lips but didn’t say anything. In that moment, Vincent realized that as soon as she felt that the debt was paid, she’d leave without saying anything. Something uncomfortable squirmed in his gut at that thought. Didn’t she trust them? He blinked. It didn’t really matter, did it? After all, it wasn’t as if he was going to stay once things were settled.

“Mister Vincent should stay, too,” mumbled Marlene quietly, almost as if she could hear his thoughts. Lya regarded the child for a moment, and briefly glanced at Vincent again.

“That’s up to Vincent,” said Tifa. “But our door is always open.” A fact he was glad of, even if he didn’t admit it. “At any rate,” she continued, “I should probably go up and assess the damage. You’ll have a quote by tomorrow.” With that, she turned on her heel and headed upstairs. Cloud followed her, probably to help. Barret grimaced as they heard a surprised shout.

“Damn,” he said, snickering a bit. “Guess that means you’re here for good.” Before Lya could say anything, his cell phone rang, and he left the room to take the call. It was probably Cid calling to complain that Barret wasn’t working. Lya sighed.

“Guess I’ll make dinner,” she said, getting up. She disappeared into the kitchen. Yuffie turned to Vincent. 

“So she’s like you, huh?” she said thoughtfully. He shrugged. “No opinion?”

“Not really,” he replied, and left for his room. He _did_ have a few conflicting thoughts, and he needed to meditate to sort out that strange feeling in his chest that was rapidly swelling, making him feel tight. He could hear Cloud and Tifa discussing what they should do before closing his door. He sat down on the bed and closed his eyes, at least until dinner was ready.


	5. Hojo's Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATTENTION: A good chunk of this chapter is just Hojo's Lab Entries, copied directly from in-game text boxes. It’s a good read-through if you want a refresher on Vincent, or if you somehow missed those notes altogether. If you would like to skip reading them, they have been italicized, so once they start, just scroll through until the italics end. Thank you for your time

Despite Lya briefly opening up, she closed herself off once more, treating everyone with the same cold, vacant manner she had before her secret came out. No one seemed to mind, though, having been treated similarly by Vincent. She was moved to the last spare bedroom while they worked on fixing what she’d ruined. She helped out at the bar in order to help pay for the damages, and promised to find a real job once she and Vincent switched back. Despite the room being destroyed, the brush survived, and she continued to tame Vincent’s hair in the mornings.

She’d been a bit rough the morning after her secret got out, not that he’d shown that it hurt, of course, but now she was surprisingly gentle. He gazed up at her through the mirror. Her expression was vacant, but her eyes held a certain softness that sucked him in, making him wish she’d slip off the mask just a little more. Despite his best efforts to block it out, his chest felt full and tight any time she was around or he thought about her. She felt his eyes on her and she met his gaze, the softness in her eyes disappearing behind that mask.

“What is it?” she asked. He quickly thought of an excuse.

“I was just wondering why your hair always ends up this way,” he said. She lowered her gaze back to the brush in her hand.

“It never did this before my uncle's… interference… So I guess it has something to do with that, though I’ve never really thought about it before.” She resumed brushing. “I suppose it might be entertaining to conduct a study on it, but without knowing what he did, I won’t receive concrete answers.”

“Surely his research isn’t gone?”

“It is. I went back when I heard about the earthquake to see if I could find something of his notes. It was all destroyed. If anything did survive, it was swallowed by the earth. Paper back then was very fragile, prone to degrading during intense climate changes.” She finished brushing and put the brush down. “All I’ve got to go on are the theories I came up with over the past two centuries. But then, I'm not a scientist.”

Vincent’s eyes slid down to his reflection. Lya's face stared back at him. Even he still had Hojo's lab entries on him—his friends had found the notes in the Shinra Mansion in Nibelheim, and they gave them to him when they found him. He wasn’t entirely sure why he kept them. Either it was to remind himself that he was once human, or to continue proving to himself that he was a monster, undeserving of anyone’s pity. Perhaps both. Lya didn’t even have that. She was staring at him again. He stared back, ignoring the tightening feeling in his chest.

“What about you?” she asked. “Does your body have any more surprises I should be mindful of?”

“…Yes,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Extreme fits of anger or desperation will trigger a transformation, which you’ve already experienced.” She watched him, eyes focused intently on him. His chest tightened further. “When that happens, one of four… beasts… will take over, rendering you completely out of control. A level head and a strong grip on your emotions will prevent this.” He closed his eyes as her stare seemed to intensify.

“And your friends already knew?”

“Yes.” She was silent for a moment, looking a bit thoughtful.

“I have told you a great deal about myself,” she said finally. “Perhaps you could tell me why it is your body is like this?” He opened his eyes again and stared back up at her. Though her face was expressionless, her eyes glittered with curiosity. He swallowed hard and looked back down at his reflection again. 

“A scientist named Hojo,” he said quietly, “shot me and experimented on my near-dead body because I opposed his research.” Lya's eyes softened, slipping off her mask just a bit to briefly offer a look of sympathy. “I read about what he did in his notes,” he continued, “and as far as I can tell, there’s no way to reverse what’s been done.”

“I’d like to see those notes,” she said thoughtfully.

“Why?”

“Curiosity, I suppose. I never got to see any of my uncle’s research notes, so seeing another scientist's notes—how a scientist's mind works—may prove somewhat useful to me.” He nodded. He could at least give her that.

“I still have them,” he said, getting up from the chair. She put the brush down and followed him to his room. He strode over to the dresser and opened the top drawer, pulling out a file folder. He handed it to Lya. He no longer had to look at it to know what it said:

_VINCENT VALENTINE_

_ID NO.#: SHINRA/79013342_

_PROJECT LEADER: Professor Hojo, PhD, M.D., Shinra Lab. Corp._

_PROJECT NO.#: SHIN.GENE.SCI.nib124610_

_Personal Information:_

_Age: 27_

_Birthdate: October 13th_

_Height: 6'0_

_Blood Type: A_

_Occupation: Member of Turks Organization_

_Specific Job: sharpshooter/gunman_

_Current Location/Whereabouts: Nibelheim_

_EXPERIMENT LOG/SUBJECT PROGRESS:_

_ENTRY 1: Project began on date [redacted], with the physical incapacitation of the subject after he had expressed interest in halting my other human-based projects, namely, the Jenova Project at Nibelheim. He had moral objections to my sciences, and to my personal life, and I had some objections to the way he tended to get too nosy with my business. A curious member of the Turks was a far too dangerous person to have wandering about, so I decided that he would make an excellent volunteer for my studies._

_He was a white male of six feet, zero inches in height, black hair and brown eyes. Physically, he was not as strong as some of my previous subjects, but he appeared to make up for that flaw with higher then average intelligence. The project would also make up for his poor physical stamina. He was brought as close to full clinical brain-death as we can possibly revive someone from, for the commencement of testing. Heart rate was slowed to zero beats per min, ocular reaction time: 18.02 min/sec, temp. 43.F, cerebral alpha wave production ceased twice, beta wave production, once. Destruction of the brain cells through anoxia was surprisingly, not noted throughout the ordeal. Testing will begin now._

_ENTRY 2: Subject physically appears to be completely stable. His body is slowly undergoing the fantastic xenogenic transformations that I have before noted with heavy use of exobiological genetic splicing. His left arm, from the joint of the elbow to the phalanges, is almost been rendered completely useless from the incapacitation. Perhaps I should have used a smaller caliber round, but then again, perhaps not. Mentally, he seems to be facing the same effects as some of the other subjects. Temporary bouts of schizoid, manic/depressive, and paranoiac behavior is rather marked in him. He is responding very poorly to treatments of thorazine and cephaloxin, quite often because he believes that the drugs are making him appear more ill. He is quite vocal now at the time of this entry, which is telling me, that it is time for more tranquilizers. (For the both of us.)_

_ENTRY 3: Subject's health is failing rapidly due to a gangrenous infection that has centralized in his left arm. A large amount of seeping yellow lymph from the arm's surviving live tissue stump, and leaking through various exposed wounds is indicating a far higher than normal white blood cell count, which can only have one of three explanations - 1. Nodal lymphoma, 2. High immunological response to the gene therapy, or 3. Perhaps he has developed a new form of leukemia, the likes of which I have seen elsewhere only in rare cases with canid mammals. If it is proven to be cancerous, then the subject will be terminated shortly thereafter. But in the meantime, it appears that I will be forced to amputate the infected limb. This is actually advantageous, as I have just recently learned that a recently deceased colleague of mine had just completed a new type of artificial arm. I would like to be the first one to test its effectiveness._

_ENTRY 4: The amputation was a complete success, and the gangrenous infection is now gone. The new arm is working nicely, and its overall 'claw' shape has given me a new idea with which to take this project. The subject's body is doing well, and even though I cannot find the cause of the increased white blood cell count, it does not seem to be negatively affecting the project. The subject is far more vicious now than ever before, and quite often I have to restrain him with cattle ties and nylon straps. It would appear that the genetic enhancements are working well, as he now can easily overpower two men. I am exchanging the anti-psychotic thorazine with a much stronger drug, the veterinary anesthetic diazepam. I am familiar with the veterinary uses of this drug, but as noted before, I typically do not use anesthetics in my experiments, as the subjects to not appear to be affected by them. But when they are delivered in very high doses, the subjects can be temporarily weakened and quieted by these drugs. An interesting side effect of the gene therapy._

_ENTRY 5: I have become quite inventive with my recent work on the former Mr. Valentine. I have been experimenting with the various genes that control the color of his irises. I had attempted to engineer them to change color in the light, making in effect, a reflecting surface that resembled a compact disks' surface. But his eyes' genes were uncooperative, and instead I simply abandoned the experiment temporarily, and have left his irises colorless, and red, in case I ever choose to return to that project. In addition to that, the only genes that appear to have fully taken was the genes of the extinct Galian Beast creature. His transformational abilities are limited, at best, but can be quite entertaining when things get too quiet down here. His hair is much longer now, and he is far more solemn and depressed than before. I think that he has finally come to the realization that my experiment is not a temporary thing, and that he will never be able to be free again. His mental clarity is surprisingly sharp, and I believe now that his memories are the only things keeping him from going completely mad. But even they cannot change the fact that he is no longer fully human. He is a creation, created through the processes of my science. He is now a manufactured 'monster', which is more correctly known as a 'teratogen'. One of my assistants even thinks that when he is unconscious, he resembles the brooding vampires of popular horror legends. I think that I will make further attempts to make him look more like this._

_ENTRY 6: He is truly freakish now. I have entered far more genes into him than before because he seemed to be doing so well with the previous therapies. The genes of several creatures are now his. I chose the ugliest creatures that I could, because I am keeping with a 'monster' theme with him. I have left his genes open for further entries and changes with his DNA coding, in case I come up with something new to add to his collection of forms and abilities. But even through all of this, I have become bored with him. His genes, his eyes, his twisted body... all of him. I have several new projects going on now, one of which is my life's greatest work, that of the Jenova Project on my new son. He is showing far more promise than any of us could have hoped for, and I will strive for that perfection with him. I am finalizing the test data for this project, so I can focus my creative energies on Jenova and my son. I believe that Mr. Valentine is finally a broken man, as he no longer speaks to anyone, and the Turks have long since stopped looking for him. In his most recent physical form, he is almost completely unrecognizable as the normal human man that he was before. He does not eat or drink much of anything now, and he sleeps almost continuously. He even now sleeps through the bone marrow genetic testing sequences, which I can imagine, are extremely painful. He appears to have one desire now, and that is to sleep as much as he can. I will grant him this final wish._

_FINAL ENTRY: I must destroy all opposition to my work, even that one from the Turks. I have put him to sleep in the basement of this mansion. If you wish to find him, then you must play my little game. Hidden in this mansion are the clues that will unlock the safe on the second floor. Ah, but who will want to rescue a freakish monster?! (Rest in peace, Mr. Valentine.)_

  
Lya scrunched up her nose in disgust.

“This man fancies himself an artist,” she spat. She handed the files back to Vincent. “My condolences.” He put it back in the drawer. “Why was the date redacted?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps it was to reduce ties to him, though in that case, he really should have burned them. It doesn’t really matter when it was done, though. Did you learn anything?”

“Not really. Your scientist seems to be driven purely by curiosity. This is most evident in the way he tossed you aside in favor of a newer, perceivably bigger, better project. While it is possible that my uncle could have had a similar drive, it’s not certain. I believe he truly wanted to help others, myself being the exception. His research was also Mako driven, while yours seems to be focused primarily on genetics.”

“Mako driven?”

“Yes—at that time, Mako energy had only just been discovered, and very little was known about it. My uncle was mostly interested in how it worked, and whether or not it could be harnessed.”

“If that was his primary research, why experiment on you?” She shrugged.

“He may have still been experimenting with Mako in my case—without his notes, I don’t know for certain.” He almost thought he saw disappointment flash across her face before the stoic mask returned. “I suppose I could ask another scientist to look into it, but I’d much rather not be experimented on again, and given their track record so far, it’s probably not a very good idea.” He could understand that. She headed for the door, then turned back to face him.

“Thank you for the insight,” she said. “Since my secret is already out, there should be no further incidences.” She left, leaving Vincent to stare after her. He understood why she would feel disappointed, but why did he? Why did his heart ache every time her eyes had that shimmer of sadness behind them? He glanced at his reflection again, her face staring back. He just couldn’t understand it. He shook his head and went downstairs for breakfast, telling himself it was nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super terrible at tags, by the way, so if anyone thinks a certain tag might work well, lemme know.  
> Also, I haven't written on this recently, just posting everything I have here. Just in case someone from my other fic says something about abandoning said other fic. >_>


End file.
